Two Angels
by PhanJustPhantom
Summary: Elizabeth stood, looking at the Opera house’s doors. She carried with her a violin in her left hand, and in her right…a pistol.
1. Chapter 1

Two Angels 

Elizabeth stood, looking at the Opera house's doors. She carried with her a violin in her left hand, and in her right…a pistol.

She was in a teal, fancy, strapless dress. Along the top of her dress, were five, teal, fabric roses. She shoulder-length light, brown hair was pinned behind her ear with a matching rose. Her pale and fragile figure made some people think she was Christine Daae.

She shivered at the pale fall weather blew a slight breeze across the front steps. Leaves gathered at her feet as she stepped up the stairs to the doors. She opened the doors and walked across the cold marble floor in bare feet. She had slipped them off at the doors, which were now tightly closed.

She stood at the foot of the great stairs, pulled out her violin and bow, and started to play a slow tune. It was rather choppy as she started to cry and the pistol was still in the hand that held the bow.

Still playing, she positioned the gun in her hand so it faced her chest. She cried harder, not letting a cry escape her thin lips. She pulled the trigger and then there was darkness.

Her body limply fell to the floor and the violin landed to the left of her head, hand still on the strings, and the pistol and bow on her stomach.

To no surprise, someone had heard the music and the shot and came walking out. This blonde girl's name was Meg Giry. She was a ballet dancer in the Opera House. She saw the body on the floor and screamed.

More came and they all had the similar reaction, until the Manager's, Monsieur Richard Firman, and Monsieur Gilles André, came out to the scene.

"Please return to your rehearsal! We'll send for the Police!" Firman bustled the growing crowd out of the room, while André sent for the police.

What no one seemed to notice was the masked man standing in the shadows. He had heard the music and came, just before she shot herself. He had watched Meg come and then the growing crowd. He now watched as the police entered and examined the body, the surroundings, and then moved the body to a coffin cart and rolled it away. He listened to the investigator explain the situation to those two numbskulls know as the managers.

"It was obviously a suicide. Did she work here?" he asked, taking off his hat. Firman and André looked at each other.

"No. We had never seen her before," Firman replied. He looked at the place where some blood had been left behind.

"We wish we could help further, but… that's all we know…" André supplementary commented. The investigator nodded.

"Thank you. You've been the best of help you could have. Good day gentlemen," he put his hat back on and headed out the door.

The masked man gave a crooked smiled and laughed silently to himself. He turned and bellowed out his cape. He had other matters to attend to, although… he had to admit, this was as about as good as it got: watching Firman and André make fools of themselves in front of the investigator, was sure to leave a smile on his hidden face for a while.

"Who do you think she was?" Meg asked. She sat on the end of Christine's bed, as they did every night.

"I don't know Meg…. What do you think drove her as far as to kill herself?" Christine was attempting to braid her curly, thick hair.

"Maybe she had lost someone dear to her… or maybe… she was sick of the rich life! Did you see how nice her dress was?" Meg smiled slightly. Christine nodded.

"I did fancy that dress…" she smiled and looked up, "Perhaps we should go to bed…? We're starting dress rehearsal for Il Muto tomorrow…" she yawned and Meg nodded. She gave Christine a hug good night and walked off to her room.

Christine lay down and pulled the covers over her shoulders. Who was this girl? What had caused her to feel so low? And why did she choose to kill herself in the Opera House? Christine closed her eyes and sleep soon followed.

"Hmm…" a girl rubbed her head as her eyes flittered open. She looked around and found herself in a monstrous cavern. She gasped as a masked man approached her, "Where am I!" she shouted at him. He looked around as if the voice came from above and he did not see her.

"Who said that?" he commanded. He kept looking around.

"I did. Right here… can't you see me?" she waved her arms at him. Wait… was she able to see him? She placed her forearm against her eyes and gasped as she could see right through it and to the masked man.

He looked like he was looking very hard. When he saw the pale, thin girl in a teal dress and teal feathered wings coming from her back, he gasped. She was transparent and the wings matched the transparency, "I see you now!" he walked towards her, "What's your name?" he asked warmly.

"Elizabeth…"

A.N.: Hey! I hope this is good… I don't know… you can tell me in a review, I suppose. Please do! I want to know what you think! No flames please… I despise them. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom Of The Opera, the songs, the books, the plays, or anything related to it in any way…. Besides Elizabeth.


	2. Death is not what is seems

The Masked man stopped where he was as he now recognized who she was. Sure, it had been a couple days since he watched her pull the trigger, but he still knew her soft face, "It's you!"

"Yes… It's me…" she sighed, standing, "I'm sorry if I caused a commotion…" she looked up at him, her turquoise eyes, meeting his ocean blue. She nodded.

"No…no… it's quite all right…" he assured her. He smiled and looked back up at her, "In fact… it was heaven. I got to watch two numbskulls try and figure your suicide out…" he chuckled and sat at his organ.

She smiled weakly and saw him sit. She remembered her violin and looked down to her left. It was there, as transparent as she was. She picked it up, along with the bow, and walked towards the organ, "What are you going to play?" she asked meekly.

The Masked Man looked up at her. He felt a little strange around her. It wasn't everyday that you talked to a ghost, "Um… I'm just warming up…" he stated, placing his hands on the keys and turning to the organ again.

She placed the bow down on the strings and started to play the chorus from 'Think Of Me'. She hummed along and closed her eyes, as she started to dance by herself to the music.

He turned and saw her there, dancing away. He started to play that song on the piano and met up with her pace, "It's a little slow…" he looked up at her. She smiled back.

"Oh. I'm sorry." she blushed. She set the bow back on the strings and played it a little softer. She closed her eyes and let her fingers do the work. She slowly started swaying from side to side. "Do you know who wrote that song?" she asked, not opening her eyes.

"Yes…" he stated calmly, still playing. He heard her stop and he looked up to see her looking at him like he was a god.

"Who?" she asked, kneeling beside him. She looked up with a wide smile on her pale face. He almost reached out to stroke it, but kept his hands on the keys.

"I did," he stated softly, stopping the music. She smiled again, eyes wide.

"Really? You did?"

"Yes,"

"Why do you live here? Shouldn't you be being paid a lot for those wonder songs?"

"I am, but I choose…here…"

"Why?" she asked, after a moment of silence. He turned to her.

"Not for any mortal sin, do I bask away in here…" he stated. She set a hand to his lips, silencing him. She let her hand drop and then placed a finger on his masked cheek. He nodded, "My abhorrent face…" he stated.

She softened towards this troubled spirit and she dropped her hand, "Can I see?" she asked softly. He turned to her.

"We do not even know each other's names…" he took a stab at changing the subject.

"You know mine: Elizabeth," she nodded in respects, "And yours?"

"Erik." He stated quietly. He looked away, mask towards her.

"That was my father's name…" she smiled, "I love that name." She looked up at him, "Can I see Erik?"

He hesitantly turned towards her, "Why do you wish to see it? You'll only run…" he stood, back towards her. She stood, and meekly folded her hands in front of her chest.

"No I won't… You're not the only one that is miss-birthed…" she stated, looking at the floor.

He turned to her and gave a confused look, "You too?" he asked. He looked at her fragile face, "I see nothing wrong with you," he stated firmly.

"I'll show you and you show me?" she asked looking up at him. He studied her a little bit longer and then nodded. She smiled meekly and pulled up her dress the show her thigh was all deformed and looked sort of like his face.

"See?" she stated as she let the dress fall to the ground again, "Now your turn," she looked up at him.

He turned away from her, hiding the scarred face, removed his silky black wig, and set it on the table. He hesitated for a minute as his hand froze on his white mask. He curiously glanced at the girl. She tilted her head at him and flashed him a smile of anticipation. He turned his glance back forward and slowly pulled off the mask. He set it down and placed his hand on it, turning to her.

"Do not let your heart be troubled," she stepped towards him and placed her icy hand on his… or more of… _through_ it, "Let me see," she stated patiently, "For I fear nothing but death itself…" she chuckled, "Although…it seems… I faced it yet two moons ago…" she looked down at her elbow and dropped her hand.

He stood there with a befuddled look. Even when a ghost, an icy and terror filling feeling, touches you: you feel the love that they had lost or gained in their death flood to you. He felt something that he had never felt before, only… in a memory, from years ago. He felt the same warm touch of love pierce his heart as it did when his mother had saved him. Her last soft touch on the cheek, and he smiled slightly. He dropped his hand and read her face instantly.

She did not even flinch. She stared at him with the same love as before. She shrugged and smiled, kneeling him down in front of her, "I knew there was a reason that God had sent me back… it was to help the wiry at heart and the soul of tortured past," she grabbed his head in both her hands and softly tilted it down and kissed his forehead.

She stood him up and knelt on one knee in front of him, "What is it you ask of me?" she looked at his feet.

He had different feelings towards this extremely calm girl, "Rise. For I need your help in the returning of someone dear to me…"

She, once again, tilted her head to the side and stared up at him. She nodded.

"Meg? What are you doing?" Madame Giry asked her, angrily, "I was just talking about…" she invited her to go on.

"About how we needed to work on our toe-landings, Madame…" she stated, timidly, half hiding behind Christine.

"Very good. Please pay closer attention next time…now!" she walked off and talked with the rest of the girls.

"We'll have to talk of that later…" Christine whispered. Meg rolled her eyes.

"Indeed we shall!"

"You can't be serious…" Elizabeth sat silently on the bench of the organ, holding her head in her hands that were propped up on her knees. Erik was pacing back and forth, up and down the small platform, and sometimes, forgetting where he was walking, and ran into a covered mirror, "Are you?" she looked up.

He looked down at her and his look said it all.

"Oh, I see…" Elizabeth stood, confronting him, "So…let me get this strait…? You want me to go against the rules of love and fetch this young maiden for your pleaser?" she had the web of her thumb and forefinger pressed against her forehead, and awaited an answer.

"There are rules to a thing such as love?" he asked, after a moment. She looked up at him, her hand resting on his shoulder.

"You've been in the dark too long!" she slapped him, going through him, "Of course there are! You can't just take people and marry them! There are rules and steps to these things…" she sighed and lowered both her hands, "I have a feeling… we are going to be here a while…" she turned away, hands on her hips. She made it to the side of the swan bed and turned to him again, freezing; "By the way… that was a "pull-yourself-together" slap you received there…" she sat on the side of the bed and looked at him.

He stared back, totally lost in feeling about the last things that had happened. He shook and looked at the drawings on the wall of Mme. Christine, "I must know these rules…must I not?" he turned to her with a jolt of shock. She was crying.

She looked down at her hands, "Death is not as it seemed…" she stated, shakily, "There was to be no more pain or crying here…" she stated, breathing hard and raspy.

He walked towards her and sat on the edge of the bed. He thought about it for a minute, but decided that ghost could not be hugged. Hearing a lady cry was a first for him. He had heard nothing but his own tears and the tears of his troubled soul, "Things are never as they seem, Ms. Elizabeth…but we must pull through them…"

A/N: Well… It's a little goes a long way no? Ha, hope so… God… I'm scarring myself with this last chapter here! I didn't know I could write like that…its sort of creepy… Well. Please R&R! No flames. For Flames are soon to come in the story!

Disclaimer: I'm writing a Fic… do I have to say?


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